Tell Me a Story
by Roses for Ophelia
Summary: Miss Edith asks Drusilla about her life. Flips between flashback and Season Two, and since Dru's head tends to be a very strange place, it could be a bit...peculiar.
1. In which Miss Edith makes demands

Miss Edith has acquired a pencil and a piece of paper. I don't know who gave it to her, because I don't have any. Spike didn't give it to her because Spike doesn't touch the dolls, or look at the dolls, or think about the dolls or talk about the dolls or talk _to_ the dolls. Sometimes I hear him chanting this to himself over and over. I don't think he likes the dolls. But they are a part of me and Spike moves them to lie down in our bed and turns them away when we do naughty things under the sheets. I don't think he likes the dolls looking at him. I offer to blindfold them for him, but he says that makes it worse and the blindfolds are for me anyway.

But Miss Edith has acquired a pencil and a piece of paper, and she is asking Questions.

I told her not to speak out of turn, to be polite, not to ask people questions they don't want to answer. But Miss Edith says she is curious. I tell her curiosity killed the cat. Miss Edith says she's not a cat. Then I wondered if I could put cat ears on her and make her a cat. Miss Edith says I'm stalling.

So I'm going to answer her questions, before Spike gets home from hunting and tells me more bad news about the Sunnygirl that troubles him so. Perhaps tonight will be the night he kills her.

My head hurts.

Miss Edith wants to know what it was like…before.

Before what? I ask her.

Before anyone. When I was a little girl.

There wasn't a before. I was always me.

Liar liar pants on fire, Miss Edith says. She knows I remember.

I could never lie to you, Miss Edith.

I remember everything, really. Even things that haven't happened yet. My memory works in two directions. Sometimes the memories dance in my head, or play hide and seek and I really have to _look_ for them to find them. I have to hunt them down like I hunt down little children to eat. But I always catch the children and I always catch my memories.

_Run and catch, run and catch._

Once upon a time a princess was born in a city of smog and smoke. There was a princess ahead and a princess behind, and a Mummy and a Daddy and uncles and aunts and even an old, wizened Grandmummy, not pretty like My Grandmummy, but old and grey, which will never, never happen to Grandmummy.

Because Daddy killed her.

Spike doesn't know I know. But I know.

Bad Daddy.

But I'm telling the story all wrong Miss Edith. I began at the end, when our happy home ended forever, before Daddy came back and—

Or was it after?

Oh no, Miss Edith, you've upset me, see what you've done! You see what comes of asking questions! You mustn't, Miss Edith, you mustn't! Oh, you shall be punished you wicked, wicked child! You shall have no stories tonight. Not even the one about the little red-haired girl who cried wolf.

I don't think you really remember, Miss Edith says.

Of course I do. Every word.

Liar, you only pretend.

I remember everything, Miss Edith! To the very last night!

Then tell me.

Oh, but Miss Edith, it is such a long story…and it isn't nice for bedtime.

Tell me, or I'll scream.

No, don't scream, Miss Edith, I can't stand it when you scream, it hurts my ears, and Spike isn't here to make it go away.

Then tell me. Tell me a story.

Oh, very well….


	2. In which Drusilla remembers childhood

Miss Edith has put on her glasses and begun taking notes. She does not move, but I know she is doing it. I think she moves too fast for me to see, sometimes. Or too slow. She must be taking notes, or else why would she have the pen and paper.

And I still don't know who gave them to her. Perhaps it was one of the other dollies. I think it was Frieda. She had always been a naughty, naughty thing. I shall question her later.

But now, Miss Edith wants me to begin.

Well, Miss Edith, I was never very good at numbers, but my mummy said I was born in 1844. Mummy and Father weren't born rich, in fact they were quite poor but Grandfather had been very clever with his money, he put it in the coal mines, and by the time I was born, we were middle-class. Which was nice. Father had grown up poor so he wanted better for his little girls.

Oh yes, there were three of us. Livia was the oldest, then me, there was another who died, her name was Claudia and the youngest was Aurelia. Daddy hadn't had much education, you see, but he taught himself to read and when he discovered the works of Ancient Rome, he couldn't get enough. We had such silly names, Miss Edith, and some of the other little Emilys and Margarets used to laugh at us.

But Miss Edith is muttering to herself now. What's that Miss Edith? I have told you not to interrupt. When are you going to learn, you silly child?

She says she likes my name, Miss Edith does.

Well thank you, there's certainly nothing wrong with it now.

But where was i? Oh, yes, we grew up middle class, watching Father supervise the men in the mines, doing our lessons. Aurelia was very clever, almost too clever for her own good, mummy said, and worried no one would marry her. She was shy, bookish, used to hide behind me or Livia when company came and didn't talk much. Clever Aurelia. She had green eyes. Daddy ripped those green eyes out of their sockets while she was still alive. He made me watch. But that's later, Miss Edith, much later.

Livia was tall and pretty, with very dark hair and very pale skin. She was three years older than me, and no one was worried that no one would marry her. She was quiet and demure, the perfect lady. What was I like, Miss Edith? Why, I was little mother! Livia was the eldest but she was so shy, and Aurelia barely spoke, so it often fell to me to speak to our nurse when one of the others wanted something, or lead the games at picnics.

We never quite fit in with the other children, or the other grown-ups, Miss Edith, because of the way we spoke. They said I spoke like a criminal or a charity child, and used to call Mummy and Father such awful things. Mummy was not invited to parties, and Father was never accepted at the clubs. They say you can disappear in London, Miss Edith, but only if you stay quiet, like a little mouse and never, never speak. We could dress like middle-class girls, and live like them, and keep a maid and a cook but the second we spoke they knew we were really poor children, in pretty dresses. I didn't really have any friends, when I was little, but I played with Livia and Aurelia and it was all right. Yes, it was…a bit. And I had one friend, you know.

Mummy was very religious and she took us to church every Sunday.

It was the Catholic church, Miss Edith, and that was very strange. There aren't any Catholics in England, you see, but mummy's family had been Irish a long time ago, and so we were Catholics. It wasn't so bad, really, except sometimes, one of the Margarets or Emilys asked why we weren't at church on Sundays and I would have to explain we went to the Catholic church on the other side of town. I never minded, really, because that's where I found the Savior, and He was my friend.

What? No, not Daddy, Miss Edith, the Savior. The Son. The One Who Died For Our Sins, even yours, Miss Edith, but not mine, because God doesn't want me any more.

Although I did meet Daddy in a church as well.

When I got older I would go to church nearly every day and pray and make confession and take communion and sing hymns and pray my rosary. I still have a rosary, did you know that, Miss Edith? Oh, it's a secret, mustn't tell Spike, or he'll be ever so cross with me. I carry it with me, not to pray anymore, because that's silly, but because it's pretty and my mummy gave it to me.

No, no, that was the first one, I think! Daddy saw it on me the day I was born, and destroyed it. That was the one mummy gave. This one I took off a pretty girl. It looked like mine, you see, Miss Edith, so I killed her and took it. Spike doesn't know. I hide it in my jewelry box where he'll never, never look, and sometimes I play with it. Not to pray, just to play, though I try not to touch the cross on the end. It can be so harmful, now.

Mummy was glad of my piety and so was Father, but they didn't know, they _couldn't_ know, Miss Edith, that I had a secret.

All my life, Miss Edith, I saw things. My memory worked in two directions, I remember things that hadn't happened. It started when I was a child, only ten years old. Do you remember? Of course not, Miss Edith, you weren't born yet.

How old are you Miss Edith? Four? Why that isn't very old at all. I'm _very, very_ much older than you, and that is why you are the child and I am the Mummy, and you must listen to your elders and obey thy father and thy mother. That's the fifth commandment, Miss Edith. Or was it the third? Or the twelfth? I don't remember , Miss Edith, not any more.

What? Well, I could if I wanted to. I remember everything. Just not silly things like that.

No, I don't want to try.

Miss Edith! Mustn't!

Oh, you make my head hurt again, like little worms are wiggling through it, and I was going to tell you about the first time I saw something—my first vision. Perhaps now I won't.

No, not even if you beg.

Please, says Miss Edith, I do so want to hear the story, Mummy.

Oh, Miss Edith knows many things. She knows how to get me to do what she wants. She knows I can't be mad at her for long. She knows I can't punish her very well at all. I fear I'm not a very good Mummy after all. Perhaps when Spike gets home he shall punish you for me. Give you a good spanking, and perhaps give me one as well.

I have been so very, very naughty today.


	3. In which Drusilla has her first vision

The first time I remember seeing, truly Seeing, with the capital letter and the pain and the ecstasy, I was in church.

Quiet Miss Edith, and attend, because it is very important that I was in church. It was not Sunday, not the day of rest and the day of the lord, but only Tuesday or Wednesday, but I had gone. I was ten years old, a little thing, with large eyes, and I was not supposed to have walked all the way to the church on my own. But no one could keep me away, in those days, from the savior. They would not notice I was missing, anyway.

I was making a novena, you see. Do you know what that is? It is when you say prayers for nine days in a row, and Jesus listens to you. And I was kneeling there, in front of the statue of Saint Anne, and praying. I was so happy when I was praying, then. It was the greatest pleasure in my life, you know. Greater than sweets or games, or sweet dreams. Of course, now I know what real pleasure is, and it isn't pretty prayers, it's pretty blood.

I knelt there, praying and chanting and feeling my soul—oh, were you surprised I had one? I did, then, Miss Edith—detach from my body and fly around in the clouds with the Angels—

Angel. Are there angels coming again?

And I was flying and praying, and crying because I could _feel_ it, Miss Edith, feel the love of the Savior, and the Lord and the Blessed Virgin Mary overcoming me. It was ecstasy, Miss Edith, pure and good and strong and, oh, how I loved it, I did love it!

That is why, Miss Edith, I did not recognize the beginning of the vision.

It started with a pain in my head.

Not searing, blinding, like the big ones are now, just a dull ache, nothing, nothing at all. A pressure on the front of my head. Then the little biting started, on the inside of my eyes. I felt lightheaded, like all the air was being eaten, or someone had put their hand over my mouth. Then the sights of the church began to disappear, al fading to white. I thought I was dying. But that isn't dying, Miss Edith, not at all. Dying came later.

I must have cried out, because the other parishioners came to find me, and the last thing ire member is my knees collapsing and my skirt riding up my legs and thinking to myself my stockings were showing. Funny what think about when we're in pain and fear.

Then the lights went out, and I was all alone in the dark.

But!

The pictures began. I saw pictures, clear as day, clear as I can see you right now, Miss Edith, pictures of Aurelia's birthday party that was to be next week. And like a movie the scene played out—although I didn't know about movies yet, then. They came later. I like movies. I especially like the silent ones where no one else seems to hear the words but me.

The scene played out, Aurelia cutting her cake, all the children playing blind-man's bluff, Mother playing the piano, and then—Aurelia falling, walking into a wall, and tumbling tumbling tumbling down the stairs, the sideboard collapsing and the vase collapsing on her and glass and blood and screams and—

Oh, blood and screams. When will Spike return with my dinner? I do hope he brings this one alive. I haven't had a present in ages.

Blood and screams and Aurelia being helped to her feet and—her eyes!

I woke up then, the parishioners around me, an old woman had put smelling salts under my nose, another woman slapping my hand, the old priest asking if anyone knew who I was.

I sat straight up.

"Are you all right, girl? Did you faint?"

I felt fine, you see. Like I always do after the visions. They hurt only until they're over. Though sometimes they worry me. The first one didn't, as I didn't know what it was, just a nightmare, I thought.

"I'm quite well, ma'am." I said. "I must have fainted. Mother must have laced my corset too tight this morning." I didn't believe it, really, but I didn't not believe it. I didn't know why I fainted. Girls swooned, then. Have you ever fainted, Miss Edith? I don't believe you've ever worn a corset, either. Could I take your waist in, do you think? You are only stuffing and glass.

What….well….Sometime I think I'm only stuffing and glass as well, and if I fall over I might break.

I got up, all on my own, and one of the old women walked me home. They were kind to me, even though I was a Keeble girl, and they weren't Quality. Still, mercy was a virtue.

They took me home and mummy put me to bed, wrapped up tight, with blankets and tea. I thought nothing of the little nightmare I had had. In fact, I didn't remember it.

Until the day of Aurelia's birthday.

I don't have to tell you the rest, that everything happened just as in my dream. Aurelia was blinded in one eye, not both, and that was the last mercy the Lord showed me. Because when I saw her approach the staircase I started to scream, tried to warn her, but it was too late. Down Aurelia fell. And in the depths of my white, pure soul I felt I was to blame. I had known about the fall and done nothing.

For days after Aurelia's accident I did nothing but pray to god, asking him to heal her, restore her eyes, take mine instead, but the Lord showed no mercy. He doesn't, you know. My mummy must have noticed the change in me, how I hid, how I always looked like a scared, guilty little lamb, but she didn't know—how could she know—what had happened? She didn't have visions, I did.

When the doctors said Aurelia would live and would regain the sight in one eye, my soul stopped hurting me. Nasty, wicked soul, it was a bother even then, Miss Edith. It is much better to be without one. Why can't I convince Daddy of that? But the visions did not stop. They came, now and then, then and now, to warn me of future horrors, and as my soul hurt me, drove little knives into my chest every time I saw another, I resolved that I was going to do something to stop them. You see, I thought the Lord had given me a gift, perhaps. That if he told me about a bad thing I could stop it. So I tried, creeping around like a mouse, every time I saw a carriage accident, or a little chimney sweep die, to warn someone, to stop it. But it was never any use. It only made it worse, as that was how my mummy found out about the visions. And strangely enough, Miss Edith, that's how it all began. That's how I met Daddy.


	4. In which Spike interrupts the story

"Dru! Drusilla!"

Someone is calling my name. I stand up, leaving Miss Edith with her pen in the air. Has there been an attack? Has the Slayer found our happy little home? If she's reached me, the minions are already dead. Am I strong enough to fight? Spike doesn't think so. Perhaps…perhaps I could, if I ask all my limbs and muscles very, very nicely, and promise to make them all very happy, they will feel strong for a few minutes. I've never killed a Slayer, never even seen one, really, not alive anyway. I saw the one in China, but only after my Spike had killed her, and she was still crying only quietly so only I could hear, calling for her mummy. I would like to kill a Slayer, maybe Slayer blood will make me feel better, I am so, so tired all the time, and I am so, so tired of being tired and—

But it isn't a Slayer. It's my Spike, and he looks frightened. His face has switched. I like him better when the demon is quiet. He sees me, and switches back. There. That's my boy. My William.

"Drusilla, you weren't in your bed." He says. "Are you all right?"

"Miss Edith and I were talking." I say, showing him. Spike smiles.

"Talking in the closet, pet?"

"Miss Edith said she needed quiet to think."

"And what is she thinking about?"

"She's asking questions. Miss Edith is a reporter." I don't like reporters. They write nosy, naughty things in the papers, and sometimes policemen get mad, and then we have to kill them, and policemen taste like blueberries, and I've never liked those.

"Does she, now?" Spike asks, coming over to me. He picks me up and carries me out of my little closet. I rest my head against his chest. He is so warm, must have fed recently. Sometimes I think Spike is a nest. He feels like home. But home that moves.

"She does. Spike," I say, as he lays me down in bed, " She's too far away, I can't hear her from here." So Spike picks Miss Edith up by the leg—which is how she lost her hat in Moscow, and she was very sad and cried for a week—and puts her down next to me. I roll on to my stomach, looking into Miss Edith's glass eyes. She looks expectant.

Well? Where were you? She says

I don't remember.

Yes, you do.

Yes, I do.

Spike is lying on the bed next to me. He isn't touching me.

"Spike," I remind him, "You're too far away from me." Spike smiles and brings me close, wrapping his arms around me so I'm settled with my back to him and my eyes to Miss Edith. It is a very warm, comfortable, safe way to be. Why can't I be here all the time? Spike smells like fear and stardust, and all I can do is touch him.

"Miss Edith is not very polite." I remark, " She doesn't know she should turn her eyes away."

"Don't think she'd be able to even if she wanted to, love," Spike says, his fingers running through my hair, " Doll hasn't got any manners at all."

"Sometimes I think I'm a bad mummy."

"You're a wonderful mummy."

"The other child doesn't think so." Spike sits up.

"What do you mean by that?" he demands, "You don't have a…"

"Would you like a little sister, Spike? With pretty blonde hair, like Miss Edith?" Spike rolls onto his back again.

"No. No more blondes. They're trouble. Never trust a blonde, Dru."

"Grandmummy was blonde," Though Miss Edith is blonder. "She had such pretty hair."

"I rest my case."

"And you're blond," I say. When my William was born he was almost brunette. Now my Spike is white as a sheet. Platinum, they say. I remember when all the movie stars were platinum blond. Spike wasn't blond then. He wore his hair slicked back, and a hat. No one wears hats any more. I'd like a hat. "Spike, do you think I'd look pretty in a bonnet?"

"Pretty as a picture." He says, though I don't think he's listening to me.

"Do you remember when all the girls wore bonnets? I remember. I was just telling Miss Edith about it, so long ago. I wore bonnets then. I had a pretty blue one with flowers on it. Were you born when I wore bonnets?"

"I remember, Dru." Spike says, and he's really not listening to me now.

"Did you like it when I wore bonnets? Was I prettier then?" I look him right in the eye. He finally turns to me.

"I thought," he said, "That you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And you still are, precious. With or without your bonnet." He always does know what to say, and I don't mean to but I sigh. Miss Edith sighs too. She thinks Spike is a poet. I tell her to hush. He doesn't like people reminding him what he was like in the bonnet-days.

"Though, must say," Spike says, his tone a bit different. "Glad to see those silly things go. Demure doesn't suit you, Dru." I smile. I know what's he's thinking about.

"No?" I whisper to him, tilting my head and letting my dress fall off my shoulders just a bit. He smiles in return and reaches out to touch me.

"Certainly not." I close my eyes as he runs his fingers down my shoulders and arms, and starts unzipping my dress in the back. Zippers are a lovely invention, Miss Edith. Buttons took forever and hooks were fiddly and small. Zip zip, in your dress, zip zip out of it, and zip zip back in when the fun's over.

"Did you kill her, tonight?" I ask, as he undresses me, though I already know the answer. If the Slayer was dead, my Spike would have brought me her body and saved me some of her blood. I got to taste only a little of the Chinese one, and the New York one Spike ate all on his own. I was very cross with him for that.

"No, pet." He grumbles, though he seems more interested in my bare breasts, resting his head on them, "Came bloody close! _This _bloody close!"

"Not even with the inside-outside?"

"Seconds, Dru, seconds, and I'd have been bringing you the prettiest doll you've ever seen."

Miss Edith scoffs. She thinks she is prettier than the Slayer. I wouldn't know, as I haven't seen her. I haven't been out of the factory, since we got here, and I don't like it. But it's better than sleeping in the car, freezing sometimes, though Spike wraps me in his coat when I'm cold, and I'm always cold. It's warm here. Hell makes it warm, or the sun, or the angels. I'm still cold.

"Do you think a child would warm me up?" I ask

"Are you hungry, pet?" Spike asks, lifting his head hopefully. He doesn't think I eat enough.

"My tummy wants a little child to make it warm and happy." Spike lunges out of the bed and puts his coat on.

"It's done." He says, "One plump little kid coming up for my princess." I smile at him.

"And then," I whisper to him, "Perhaps my Spike can warm the rest of me up." Spike looks like he's eating me with his eyes.

"As soon as I get back, pet, I'll do just that. And you!" he says, doing that voice he does when he thinks he's Daddy. "Stay in that bed until I get back. No lurking about in closets with the dolls, right?"

"Miss Edith and I will continue the interview here." I say, "Won't we Miss Edith?"

Yes, Spike.

"Right, I'll be off. Already been out on Halloween, doubt it matters if I go out again. I'm sure there's some trick-or-treaters left, even after tonight's…fun." He leaves, talking more to himself than me. And Miss Edith and I are alone again.

"Spike is my shining knight." I tell her, "He'll always protect me. Even when the bad things start again."

What bad things?

"I don't know yet, Miss Edith. But they'll be bad. First good, then bad. Then bad, then good. Then…gone."

My head hurts.

Continue, Drusilla.


End file.
